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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29100810">When You Know (You Love Him)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/pseuds/Alley_Skywalker'>Alley_Skywalker</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Romeo &amp; Juliet - Toho Stage, Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blow Jobs, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Polyamory, Post-Apocalypse, Pre-Canon, Worldbuilding, can be read as v-formation or triad, childhood (mis)adventures</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:28:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29100810</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/pseuds/Alley_Skywalker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Or how three become one, in snapshots.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Benvolio Montague &amp; Romeo Montague, Mercutio/Benvolio Montague, Mercutio/Benvolio Montague/Romeo Montague, Mercutio/Romeo Montague</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Five Figure Fanwork Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonexistentwench/gifts">nonexistentwench</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mercutio found Romeo with his face pressed against the chain-link fence at the back of the schoolyard, staring forlornly across the ash field exclusion zone that lay between the school and an old, abandoned factory, who’s chimneys and ragged pieces of ruined roof stuck up into the air like decrepit, ancient fingers, pointing in accusation at the sky. Mercutio felt a tingle of excitement pass down his spine. He too had spent much of the previous year glued to the fence, staring longingly at that old factory in awe and a myriad of speculation as to what lay in its depths. Most of his classmates, however, either ignored the old factory or would be appalled at the suggestion that they investigate it. If there was one thing drilled into the minds of Verona’s children it was that <i>you never cross an exclusion zone. </i> </p><p>But by the look on Romeo’s face, Mercutio figured his new friend may be convincible. </p><p>They had only been friends since the start of that year. Romeo’s parents had initially endeavored to educate him at home, but it was soon conceived that he would do better in the society of his agemates. A wise decision, Mercutio figured. Especially positive that it now gave him an opportunity to finally find a partner in crime. Romeo Montague, he had discovered, deferred to rules and adults when unprovoked, but he could be easily swayed if Mercutio only tried hard enough. </p><p>In most things, they understood each other completely. </p><p>“What’re you looking at,” Mercutio asked, as nonchalantly as possible, leaning against the fence and giving Romeo his most winning smile. </p><p>“The old factory. It’s so…haunted.”</p><p>“Bet there’s ghosts in there.”</p><p>Romeo looked over at him, a little sharply. “Ghosts?”</p><p>Mercutio shrugged. “You’re the one who said it looked haunted. And it’s from before the <i>dark time.</i> So…” Romeo seemed to consider this, pressing his face back against the fence. In the silence, Mercutio pressed his advantage. “There might not be ghosts, but there must be interesting things – the kinds of things we don’t see now. From long ago, from another world almost. You see glimpses of them here, in the old skytower and remnants of things in the industrial pits on the outskirts of town. But there must be more in the factory.” </p><p>“You’ve been to the pits?” Romeo sounded skeptical. He knew Mercutio well enough now to expect just about anything from him, but also to know he was prone to fancy and exaggeration. </p><p>Again, Mercutio shrugged. “I didn’t say I had permission. Not <i>everyone </i>hovers over their children the way your parents do.”</p><p>Romeo flushed. “They don’t hover. They worry.”</p><p>“You sound like them.”</p><p>“And you’re basically a street urchin.” Romeo stuck his tongue out at him. </p><p>Mercutio laughed, and climbed halfway up the fence, hung off of it with one hand and one foot dangling. “Your game’s week today, Montague.”</p><p>“Leave it be, Mercutio,” Romeo said, sulking a little and glancing over his shoulder to make sure none of the teachers were looking. “There’s nothing there but old ruins of things we don’t understand, or otherwise or things we know too well.”</p><p>Mercutio groaned and jumped back to the ground. “Aren’t you even a little bit curious?” He took Romeo by the shoulders and gave him a small shake. “Not even a <i>little</i>?Don’t you ever wonder where the howling you sometimes hear at night comes from? Or the lights on the horizon? What are all those adults whispering about after we’ve all gone to bed?”</p><p>Romeo stared at him. Mercutio could see the fight between curiosity and respectability behind his eyes, could almost taste that conflict. He grinned, childish and feral all at once. </p><p>“Come on, Romeo. It’ll be an adventure.”</p><p>Romeo pushed him gently away, folding his arms over chest. “If you’re so brave, why have you not gone yet?”</p><p>It was his last resort, Mercutio knew. “It’s always more fun with a sidekick.”</p><p>“A sidekick? So <i>you’re </i>the hero now?”</p><p>“Don’t I look like one?”</p><p>“A trickster more like.”</p><p>Mercutio giggled. “Queen Mab’s own brother.”</p><p>Romeo shoved him, but there was more laughter than anger in it. “Dummy.”</p><p>“We’ve got nearly twenty minutes before outdoor time ends. Then it’s second shift and second shift teachers never bother to check who’s been to first shift. There’s a nice big hole in the fence a ways down. I’ll show you—”</p><p>“It’s a clear view all the way down. Someone will notice.”</p><p>Mercutio bounced, triumphant. Romeo was won over. “Then we’ll wait until everyone’s inside.” He slung an arm over Romeo’s shoulders and dragged him toward the west gate. </p><p> </p><p><i>They wouldn’t build a school so close to something if it was </i>really <i>dangerous, </i>was what Mercutio told Romeo, and frankly himself, as they crossed the ash field at a trot, a little flushed from the thought that they could be seen before reaching their destination. Although, Mercutio had to admit that he did not truly care as much as he probably should for the dangers that lay ahead. He was both an orphan and the ward of a stodgy uncle, who had no real plans for him but still felt responsible for his well-being, if only in the name of his sister’s memory. He was like a plant that had been uprooted and allowed to spread out its roots, grow in whichever direction, only to then have someone attempt to shove him back into a cozy, tight pot. It did not work, and he resented the attempt. </p><p>The old factory – or perhaps it was a manufacturing plant, Mercutio could not say – loomed closer and closer, drew him in with its gaping black holes for doors, spidering cracks in the concrete and metal drawing out a map of ancient despair. He wanted to know what lay inside – it was so much more interesting than the second shirt natural science class, with lanky Ms. Argaleto and her shrill, piercing voice: <i>Mercutio, sit still. Mercutio, don’t put the bugs there. Mercutio— </i>She took all the fun out of everything. The adults always did. </p><p>Romeo was a tense companion beside him, still uncertain of this adventure, but magnetically drawn to Mercutio anyway. Romeo looked at him the way no one else did, was so different from him, and yet was able to anticipate him more often than not, understand him even when his feelings mistranslated – pain into anger, anger into laughter, laughter into tears. Mercutio’s thoughts and feelings always seemed to be running circles around themselves, and Romeo untangled them from themselves and followed Mercutio across the barren ash field when no one else would, even when Romeo himself wasn’t certain that he should. </p><p>Mercutio didn’t think he’d ever find a way to express how that made him feel. </p><p>The fencing around the old factory was rusted and rotted through, easy enough to pry apart and climb over. Torn up and cracked concrete lay on the other side, in some places, pale, thin weeds were winding through the cracks, half-dried alien things in the sea of barren grey, black and white. Romeo hesitated once more, staring at the blackness that shone through glassless windows and doorless frames, holes in the otherwise sturdy stone and metal walls. Mercutio grabbed him hand and urged him forward.  </p><p>As they got closer, broken glass crunched under their feet and the weeds became more rare, fading away in the shadow of the building. Some of the paint was still somewhat distinguishable, not completely peeling or losing its tint: blues and oranges and brick reds. They walked through one of the large doors and found themselves in a tall room, what probably used to the lobby. This area was still well-lit, the multiple skylights allowing sunlight to seep in. What remained of the furniture and technology was mostly gone – either destroyed or probably looted earlier. Mercutio doubted they were the first visitors here. They continued down a corridor which melted into another, then another. This far into the building there was little light, and Mercutio lit the way with the flashlight he always kept clipped to his belt. </p><p>Offices, conference rooms, nothing remotely interesting at first, only the vague smell of stifled, dusty air and the remnants of rot. Then, suddenly, a set of double doors creaked open and led them onto the production floor. Here, several windows high up allowed in enough light that they could see without the flashlight. </p><p>Romeo gasped and grabbed Mercutio’s arm. </p><p>Rows and rows of conveyers on one side and rows of cages on the other, all overshadowed by a variety of large robots of different structures with sturdy, multi-jointed arms that stuck out in all directions. Metal, fiberglass and plastic parts were strewed over the floor and conveyor belts, some still suspended mid-air in the claws of a robot stopped mid-cycle. Mercutio had seen factory machinery before – many manufacturing processes were automated – but never to this scale nor of this sophistication. He imagined how it must have all looked when working, lit up with multicolored lights, the rows of robots swinging and swirling, clashing and clunking: a perfect din, a structured chaos. </p><p>Romeo wondered between the conveyer belts, picking up half-made parts. “I wonder what they were making,” he said, not so much a question as a sort of observation. He stopped and picked up what looked like an employee badge from the floor. “Empire Tech Industries,” he read carefully from the badge, then flipped it over, his eyes lighting up. “You can still kind of read the employee card. Enrique Valencio, post-production manager… Can’t really make out the picture.”</p><p>Mercutio rolled his eyes. “Who cares? He’s long dead.”</p><p>Romeo met his eyes and grinned. “Maybe his ghost is here.”</p><p>Mercutio laughed and grabbed onto the arm of the nearest silent robot. “And now that you’ve said its name, it’s gonna get you!”</p><p>Romeo’s eyebrows drew together. “Or you. For disturbing his stuff.”</p><p>“<i>Disturbing</i>! Did you read that word in a book?”</p><p>“You should try it sometimes.” </p><p>“What? Reading the word <i>disturbing?</i>”</p><p>“Reading books.” Romeo stuck his tongue out at him. </p><p>Mercutio hooted a laugh and climbed up the arm of the robot to sit on top of it. “I’d rather see what these things can do!” Gingerly he stood up and looked down at Romeo. “Climb up!”</p><p>“No! Mercutio get down, you’re going to fall.”</p><p>“No, I’m not.” He looked around and saw a cord hanging off the ceiling, grabbed onto it and used it to swing down to stand on top of a parallel line of conveyer belts. “Come on, don’t be a downer.”</p><p>Romeo climbed onto one of the conveyer belts and looked at him uncertainly. He gingerly moved aside the heavy arm of one robot, then another, began to climb between them. Mercutio giggled and waved for Romeo to follow him. They made their way between the frozen robots, sometimes climbing under them, sometimes over. Mercutio jumped from one line of conveyer belts to another, growing more and more confident. It turned into a game – them against an imaginary clock to stop the end of the world, making their way through a steel and plastic maze. Mercutio pulled the laser pen from his belt that he had pilfered from one of his uncle’s assistants and pointed at imaginary targets with it, shooting up imaginary enemies as Romeo provided the sound effects. </p><p>They found themselves tumbling down into a different level of the production floor. Here, there were no skylights, only vague light coming from a shattered and cracked loading bay door on the far wall. Mercutio climbed up a large robot as though it were a tree. One of its arms had a platform just big enough for him to stand on if he held on to the robot’s arm. This one had several such appendages and Mercutio could tell that the center column could turn to create something resembling a carousel. </p><p>“Romeo! Try to make it go around!” After a few pushes, Romeo got it to turn, then again and again. Mercutio squealed in glee as the world began to turn and turn, a maze of colors going around and around in front of his eyes. He realized that if he threw his weight around it could make the carousel go faster without Romeo’s help – so he did just that. </p><p>Romeo was shouting something at him from the floor, but Mercutio felt like he was flying. He flung his arms out like they were wings, to feel the air rush over him—</p><p>And then he was falling. </p><p>He flailed, grabbed at the robot’s arm, but his hand only slammed uselessly against something metal, sending a jolt of pain through his arm. Then the ground came rushing up to meet him and for a moment the world exploded into pain as he hit the floor. </p><p>“Mercutio! Mercutio, are you alright? Mercutio!” Romeo was shouting, shaking his shoulder, and Mercutio tried to wave him aside, but his arm was sore, and he couldn’t seem to quite control his legs. He swore and rolled over, noticed the dancing stars on the ceiling that hadn’t been there before. Romeo’s face above him slowly came into focus and Mercutio groaned half in pain and half in frustration as he realized what had likely happened. </p><p>“I think I broke my ankle,” he said, followed by a string of expletives most adults wouldn’t think a boy of barely eight capable of. </p><p>Romeo helped him sit up and held his hands while Mercutio tried to catch his breath. Now that the first impact had passed, he began to assess how badly he’d managed to bang himself up <i>this time.</i> There was a beeping in his ears, redundant and annoying, like a small, high-pitched alarm, even though he didn’t remember hitting his head. His left hand felt numb and was definitely sore – made worse by Romeo’s clumsy attempts at rubbing away the beginnings of a bruise; it would certainly swell, but Mercutio could move it enough to figure that probably nothing was broken. His right ankle, on the other hand, hurt like hell and even moving his leg caused the pain to flare. He couldn’t imagine standing on it. “I’m real fucked,” he muttered, the ash field that lay between the factory and the school now seeming far larger than it had before.  </p><p>“Mercutio, can you walk?” Romeo asked, quietly, as though afraid to spook him. </p><p>“I doubt it,” he muttered. He could also tell it was getting dark, the small amount of light that had seeped into the loading bay now slowly fading, the shadows on the walls elongating and expanding, swallowing everything up. </p><p>“We need to get out of here,” Romeo said, a little choked, fighting panic.</p><p>Mercutio forced himself to focus and look into his face. It was getting hard to see. “What is it?”</p><p>“There’s…there’s too much cont-contamination,” Romeo stuttered. </p><p>“How do you know?”</p><p>Romeo let go of his hand and fumbled around in his pocket, drawing out a small radiation meter. “My mom gave it to me, just in case. It…it starts to beep when the levels are getting too high to be safe…”</p><p>“It’s <i>that </i>thing that’s beeping?”</p><p>Romeo nodded. </p><p>Mercutio groaned. “Can you make it stop?”</p><p>Romeo shrugged and shoved the meter back into his pocket. “We need to go.” He changed his position and pulled Mercutio’s arm over his shoulders. “Come on.”</p><p>It took a couple of tries before Romeo managed to get Mercutio up on his feet. Taking a step was even harder. Slowly, they managed to make their way outside, through a hole in the loading bay door, to try to get a sense of where they were. The sun was starting to sink down toward the horizon and the evening chill was picking up. A cloud cover had begun to creep up in the distance, making the afternoon even darker than it usually would be at this time, waiting to eat up the sun completely. School would have ended by now and they would be expected home soon. </p><p>“Oh, we’re in real trouble,” Romeo muttered as they looked around. They were in a back loading dock, with high fencing and old, abandoned vehicles that hadn’t run for over a century scattered around the courtyard. The factory walls stretched out on either side of them, blocking their view. Even without Mercutio’s injury it would have taken them at least twenty minutes to just get around the building. “Do you think we could find our way back the way we came?”</p><p>Mercutio thought about it and shook his head with a sinking feeling in his stomach. There was no way he would be able to remember the way they came and there was too much chance of them getting lost. They were likely on a different floor from where they had come in, as he remembered sliding down one of the coverer belts, going down, down, <i>down. </i>He would certainly not be able to climb back up that way. None of the old lifts worked, of course, and Mercutio felt very uncertain of his ability to go up stairs. As it were, he couldn’t even take a step without leaning heavily on Romeo. “We’re just gonna have to go around.” He made a face. “Slowly.”</p><p><i>Slowly </i>was almost an exaggeration. Romeo had to half carry him, and the uneven concrete, the need to get through holes in chain-link fences, or squeeze past old vehicles and large, industrial disposal bins was making the progress even slower. By the time they had made it even halfway down the building, Romeo was exhausted and Mercutio had bitten his lip bloody, trying to not make any embarrassing sounds, even as he teared up. </p><p>The meter in Romeo’s pocket kept beeping. The clouds on the horizon began to swallow the sun, painting it red and bruise-purple. </p><p>“A little more and then we can take a break,” Romeo said, his breath coming in small puffs of exertion as he shouldered most of Mercutio’s weight. They took two more steps and Romeo sighed in defeat. “Or maybe let’s take a break now.”</p><p>They sank down to the ground in a disorganized heap. Mercutio leaned against the nearest wall and surveyed his ankle which was starting to swell badly. </p><p>“Do you think we could…restrain it somehow?” Romeo asked. “Or…do something so you could put some more weight on it?”</p><p>“It’s not like when you’re bleeding and you need a tourniquet,” Mercutio said, making a face. </p><p>“Oooh, <i>tourniquet. </i>Did you read that word in a book?” </p><p>Mercutio rolled his eyes and punched his shoulder lightly. “Shut up. I know some words.”</p><p>Romeo giggled and fished a handkerchief out of an inner pocket of his jacket. He reached out to awkwardly dab at Mercutio’s face. Mercutio realized he was sweating despite the cold evening air. “What are you doing?” Mercutio asked, a little hoarsely, watching Romeo’s movements, suddenly mesmerized by them for no reason. </p><p>“Nothing,” Romeo muttered, flushed, and hid the handkerchief again. </p><p>Mercutio fished out a bag of crackers and held it out to Romeo. “Want some?” They ate the crackers in silence for a few minutes, watching the daylight fade into twilight. Finally, Mercutio said, “Maybe you should run for help. It’s going to be completely dark soon…”</p><p>Romeo looked up at him sharply. “And leave you out here? Alone?”</p><p>Mercutio shrugged. “It will go faster and I’m not scared. I don’t even believe in ghosts.”</p><p>“I think there might be worse things out here than ghosts,” Romeo said uncertainly. </p><p>“Like what? Ghouls?”</p><p>Romeo shrugged and looked away. </p><p>“Mutants!” Mercutio declared with a laugh. </p><p>“Stop,” Romeo whined. “You never know what could be out here. How many people even go out into exclusion zones? My cousin’s parents worked as decontaminators and area scouts and he says they saw all kinds of weird things.”</p><p>“What do they do now?”</p><p>“What? Oh. Well his dad still works. His mother died a couple of years ago. Of <i>the usual.</i> It’s pretty common with their job.”</p><p>Mercutio hummed in distracted agreement. “Well, run fast then. Or the monsters will get both of us.”</p><p>Romeo’s eyebrows drew together. He gave Mercutio a long look and shook his head. “I’d rather monsters than leave you out here alone.”</p><p>“You’re so corny,” Mercutio groaned, ignoring the somersaults his heart was suddenly doing behind his ribs. </p><p>“I’m serious.” Romeo looked around them, looked back at Mercutio, then hugged himself and said in a small voice, “Do you really think I should go?”</p><p>“Yea. We’ll take forever.”</p><p>“I’ll run and grab the first person I see and tell them and then come <i>right back,</i>” he promised vigorously, grabbing onto Mercutio’s shoulders and holding on a little too tightly. Mercutio nodded, trying to pretend he wasn’t nearly dreading the prospect of being left alone in the dark behind an old, abandoned factory in an exclusion zone for who knows exactly how long as much as he actually was. Romeo took off his jacket and wrapped it around Mercutio as though it was a blanket. “To stay warm,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed by his own gesture.</p><p>“Thanks,” Mercutio said, clutching onto it despite himself. The jacket smelled like Romeo. </p><p>Romeo gave him one last, long look, then jumped to his feet and began to run. </p><p>He tripped in the dark, sending debris and scrap metal flying. Romeo reached out to grab onto something for balance, blindly latching onto a chain hanging from one of the large vehicles. It was not sturdy enough to hold him, and he fell anyway, still clinging on to the rope. </p><p>Something clanged and groaned, rusted metal suddenly put to use. A pully began to move and rattle, pulling something upwards. Romeo scrambled back toward Mercutio and they watched, in discomforted anticipation, as the back of one of the trucks began to open up, revealing a gaping blackness. There was something in that blackness, unmoving and still.</p><p>Gingerly, Mercutio fumbled for his flashlight. </p><p>It took a second for them to realize that what they were looking at, packed into the back of the truck, were <i>skeletons. </i>Skulls with black, empty eye sockets, exposed ribcages, tangles of arms and limbs, knotted together or flung out. They were so old that no rot remained, only naked bone. The truck, disturbed from its location on a small incline, rolled forward just an inch – the skeletons rattled. </p><p>One of the skulls tipped over the side and fell to the concrete below with a sickening crack. </p><p>Mercutio let out a high pitched yelp before clapping a hand over his mouth. Romeo clutched at his arm and Mercutio could tell he was shaking. “Do you still want to stay?” Romeo asked, his voice unnaturally squeaky. </p><p>Mercutio clutch at Romeo’s shoulder, his mind screaming, <i>no, no, no don’t leave me. </i>The skeletons in the truck seemed to move and rattle on their own, even though some part of Mercutio knew that this last part was merely his imagination taking over as it often did  and the old, dry bones could not move on their own. Ghosts weren’t real, and walking skeletons certainly not. His heart raced and feared Romeo would run off and leave him there to be devoured by the gaping holes in the skulls. “Hell no, let’s get out of here!”</p><p> </p><p>Mercutio couldn’t say how long it took them to get around the building. The shock of encountering a truck full of skeletons had spurred them both along and for some time Mercutio nearly forgot about the pain in his leg and limped along beside Romeo. It all came crashing back when they finally made their way onto the open ash field, the schoolyard within sight in the distance. Mercutio’s knees buckled and he pulled Romeo down with him. They were barely off the factory grounds, still with some way to go across the exclusion zone. </p><p>At least Romeo’s meter had stopped beeping. </p><p>Mercutio buried his face into Romeo’s shoulder. </p><p>“Somehow that was worse than ghosts,” Romeo said. Then, after a moment, “Mercutio, look!”</p><p>Mercutio looked up. There was visible movement in the schoolyard and around it – people walking around, flashlights throwing dancing beams of light onto nearby objects in a haphazard dance, vehicles moving around. Distantly, they could hear shouting.</p><p>“Do you think they’re looking for us?” Romeo asked, hopefully. </p><p>It was dark. They would have been expected to be home for some time now, certainly by sunset. Mercutio’s stomach sank. If there was an entire search party out for them – or at least Romeo – they would be in serious trouble. But they needed help and he didn’t think he could take one more step without screaming. “Do you have a flashlight?” Mercutio took out his own and started to wave it around. Romeo followed his lead. They started to shout and waved their arms around wildly even as they continued to hold on to each other.</p><p>For several minutes this had little effect. Then, one of the reconnaissance vehicles turned its glaring headlights on them, and moved out across the exclusion zone. </p><p>Romeo let out a sigh of relief and slumped against Mercutio, who returned to hiding his face against Romeo’s shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine, Dad,” Romeo was saying as Lord Montague brushed dirt and ash off his shirt. </p><p>“Where’s your jacket?”</p><p>“I gave it to Mercutio—I’m fine. But Mercutio is hurt.” Romeo swiveled his head around to look at the adults crowding around them. “You need to help him.”</p><p>Mercutio looked around dazedly as he was gently lifted off the reconnaissance vehicle by a man in fatigues and a Montague patch, and deposited onto a bench. “Are you hurt, kid?” the man asked. </p><p>“Just my ankle,” Mercutio said. “I think I broke it.”</p><p>“Let’s hope it’s just that,” the man said. He said something else but his words got lost in the sirens of the medics arriving. </p><p>Mercutio looked around for someone he recognized from his uncle’s men but didn’t see anyone. It would probably take them some time to come over if they were across town. More likely, someone would come to pick him up from the hospital. </p><p>Romeo was explaining something to his father, something that was making Lord Montague increasingly nervous. Mercutio watched him hand over the radiation meter rub a hand over his face. A medic was asking him something, but Mercutio wasn’t paying attention. He was watching Lord Montague hurriedly explain something to another one of the medics, pointing at Romeo, then at the meter, then nod at the old factory. Everyone looked far more worried than was merited, Mercutio thought. </p><p>“What do you feel?” he heard one of the medics ask Romeo. </p><p>Romeo shrugged. “I’m tired and my head hurts, but nothing very bad?”</p><p>“Are you nauseous?” </p><p>Romeo began to shake his head, then stopped. “Maybe a little? I don’t know, I don’t…” He looked like he was going to cry and Mercutio wanted to shout, <i>stop it, you’re scaring him!</i></p><p><i></i>A medic knelt in front of Romeo and began to run some kind of diagnostic. Mercutio’s view was temporarily blocked by several people. He craned his neck to see, far more interested in what was happening with Romeo than the fact that someone had decided to stick a needle in his arm. </p><p>“No fever. No visible injuries. Clothes have some contamination… We’ll likely need to take him in so that decon can take a look.”</p><p>“What does that mean?” Lord Montague asked sharply, reaching out for Romeo, but he was deftly moved out of reach. </p><p>“Sir, please, it’s not safe. Not until we get him through decon.”</p><p>A small commotion ensued at that. Mercutio was left alone for a few moments as the medics congregated to discuss. Law enforcement was now on the scene and from what Mercutio could make out from their conversations, they were calling Hazzard as well. “Ohh uncle is going to kill me,” Mercutio muttered, swinging his uninjured leg nervously. </p><p>“What do you think?” one of the female medics was saying quietly. “Neither of them are exhibiting serious symptoms and external contamination is minimal.”</p><p>“That doesn’t mean anything. If they got anything over 100 rads…”</p><p>“We won’t know for sure until they’ve been through decon. For now, start them on Radiogardase and Iosat. They’ll do a milk flushing in decon.”</p><p>“What about DTPA?”</p><p>Mercutio didn’t hear the response. He was dizzy and tired; whatever medication they had injected him with was making him sleepy. He realized, suddenly, that he and Romeo would be taken to the hospital in different vehicles. Romeo was already being ushered away, Lord Montague shouting something after him. Romeo looked frightened and Mercutio desperately wanted to hug him. He realized he was still clutching Romeo’s jacket. </p><p>“Hey…” He tugged on the sleave of the medic closest to him. “I have my friend’s jacket. Can you give it back to him?”</p><p>“We’ll need to take both of your clothes once we get to the hospital,” the medic said. “He won’t miss it.”</p><p>Mercutio chewed on his lip. “Why are you taking Romeo too?”</p><p>He got a quick, sharp look for that. “You’ve both been exposed to contamination. We can’t tell well out here to what extent.” Mercutio hugged himself and he must have looked truly miserable because the medic’s expression softened and he reached out to pat Mercutio’s shoulder. “I’m sure you and your friend will be alright. You’re not the first boys to go wonder where you shouldn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“Will Romeo be alright?” was the first thing Mercutio asked when his uncle came to pick him up from the hospital the next day. They were releasing him with crutches and a small bag of decon meds to take <i>just in case. </i>Although the doctors assured his uncle that he would almost certainly be fine, it had dawned on Mercutio that if his uncle came himself, instead of sending someone from his staff, then the situation was indeed serious. </p><p>“I’m certain he will,” his uncle had said brusquely, ushering Mercutio into his truck. When they got home however, his uncle sat him down and gave him a serious look. “You know there’s a reason you’re not supposed to wonder into exclusion zones.”</p><p>Usually, Mercutio would have rolled his eyes at what was obviously the start of a lecture, but he still had not gotten a straight answer about Romeo from anyone. So, instead, he nodded mutely. </p><p>“We don’t always know what’s out there. And sometimes, we think we know, but the storms bring in new contaminants. What made you think this was a good idea?”</p><p>There was a storm broiling behind his uncle’s eyes and Mercutio wanted to scream from the tension suddenly filling the room. He wished that his uncle would scream more often, instead of that repressed rage. It felt especially unfair since the only time anyone paid attention to him was when he had done something wrong. Encouragement and affections were rare commodities in his house, almost unheard of, at least for Mercutio. “We just wanted to have some fun,” Mercutio admitted. </p><p>“You’re old enough to use your head sometimes, Mercutio,” Escalus snapped. “And if you can’t be bothered to think, you could at least learn to follow some rules.”</p><p>Mercutio groaned, more out of habit than anything. This was clearly the wrong thing to do. </p><p>“You think this is a joke? If you don’t care about your own life, boy, then maybe have a care about that of your friends. And don’t try to tell me this wasn’t your idea. I know you well – you take after your reckless mother.” Escalus ran a hand over his face, then focused back on Mercutio, his eyes dark. “You asked about your friend, Romeo, earlier. They haven’t discharged him yet because he was symptomatic overnight. Not everyone’s body reacts the same way. But what would have happened if you had been more seriously hurt? Or him? What if something else had happened and you couldn’t get out for longer. What if the contamination levels were higher? How would you feel if your friend was dead because of you?”</p><p>Mercutio shivered, crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to hide his feelings from his uncle. It was hard to not cry or scream. Of course it had been his fault. That Romeo was sick was his fault. He had talked him into going to the factory after all and he had been too careless climbing the robots and—and he had wanted Romeo to stay with him when he was scared. “Will Romeo be alright? Just someone tell me already!”</p><p>“You’re scared? You should be. Do you think this is a joke <i>now</i>, Mercutio?”</p><p>Mercutio winced and looked down. “No.”</p><p>Escalus sighed. “Most likely he’ll be fine.” He shook his head and went to sit back down behind his heavy, wooden desk. “Go now, Mercutio, and think more about the things you do. I hope this was a learning experience, if nothing else.”</p><p>Mercutio scrambled to his feet and went from the study as fast as the crutches would allow him, up to his own rooms, and made sure to lock the door before falling onto his bed face down and bursting into angry tears. <i>I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.</i></p><p> </p><p>Romeo came to school the following Monday and Mercutio let out a long, internal sigh of relief, even as Romeo slid into his usual seat next to him at the back of class. The day was gray outside, and everyone  either kept sleepily to themselves or discussed their weekend in small groups, heads bowed together. Their teacher was late. </p><p>“How’s your ankle?” Romeo asked, voice pitched low, but it still sounded too loud somehow.</p><p>Mercutio’s mind played tricks on him, making him think he saw the harsh, fluorescent lights flicker. “It’s okay. And you?”</p><p>Romeo shrugged, smiled faintly. “I hate how the hospital always smells like iodine.”</p><p>Mercutio snorted a laugh. “Are you grounded?” He didn’t want to say what he knew he should. </p><p>Romeo shook his head. “I think my parents decided the hospital stay was punishment enough.” He bit his lip and looked at Mercutio in that way that always made him feel happy and guilty all at once. Romeo saw something in him that he probably shouldn’t. “They do think…” Romeo covered his mouth with his hand but his cheeks dimpled so that Mercutio could tell he was smiling. “They think you’re an awful influence.”</p><p>Mercutio rolled his eyes. “As though I forced you.”</p><p>“No!” Romeo blurted out, then looked around hurriedly and lowered his voice. “No, I wanted to go. Though…I did tell you to not climb the robots.” He was smirking, and Mercutio wanted to say something teasing back, to forget all the fears that ate at his dreams, turning them into nightmares all weekend long. </p><p>“I’m sorry you got hurt because of me,” he said, in his most serious tone, not bothering to sweep away the strands of hair that fell into his eyes. </p><p>“I’m fine, really…” Romeo protested.</p><p>“Your parents are right. I’m pretty terrible.” Mercutio grinned to hide the pain of it. There was a reason why no one really stuck with him. His uncle was right, but he didn’t think he could change. Even when he grew up, he didn’t think he would stop loving going where he pleased and doing what seemed fun or exciting. Adults were always so boring, so over-cautious. But he didn’t want to be the reason someone got hurt, certainly not Romeo, who followed him so faithfully and understood him so disconcertingly well. He looked up into Romeo’s face. “And I don’t plan on stopping.”</p><p>“Mercutio—”</p><p>“So, you probably shouldn’t—”</p><p>“Mercutio.” Romeo hissed, grabbing his hand under the shared desk, and holding it a little too tightly.</p><p>Mercutio froze. </p><p>“Then we’ll be terrible together.”</p><p>Mercutio grinned and said, “You sap,” and thought, <i>I’d die for him. </i></p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Benvolio snuck into his room in the middle of the night for the first time not half a week after coming to live in Verona following his father’s death in a work accident. Romeo was almost asleep, lulled by the sound of the howling winds outside. The <i>Winds </i>came from time to time and whipped across the barren exclusion zones, moaned and howled in the roofs, whistled through the city. They were hot and dry in the summers; biting cold in the winter. Romeo heard that this had not always been usual weather for the region, but a lot had change since the old world fell – including the weather. Mercutio had all kinds of rogue theories about the Winds – most of them morbid and unsavory, but that was usual for Mercutio. As for Romeo, they always made him feel lonely somehow, even as he hid from their mournful howling under blankets and pillows. He supposed they must have made Benvolio feel even worse.</p><p>“Do you mind if I stay here?” Benvolio asked, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, eyes wide and a little blood-shot. The shutters creaked and rattled. They always kept them firmly closed during the Winds, just in case. As unlikely as it was these days that wind would bring contamination into the city, old habits were hard to break and his parents did always say they could never be too careful. </p><p>Romeo threw the blanket back and watched sadly as Benvolio hurried to get in and immediately wrapped himself around Romeo as though he was a large plushie toy. They had known each other since they were little, Romeo’s father taking him on trips to Mantua over the summers to see his brother’s family. His mother never liked when they went, and he remembered vividly their fights on the matter. <i>He’s too young; it’s too dangerous, </i>his mother had argued, wringing her hands. <i>We each have the one son, let them have each other, if they are to be deprived of brothers. We need family in this world, </i>his father had reasoned. Romeo had cousins in Verona – distant ones, whose exact relation to himself he did not always know, but they were all Montagues one way or another, which was all that really mattered. But he had liked the trips – even if they took him away from Mercutio – the way the moon somehow always looked brighter during the exclusion zone crossing, the seedy underworld of Mantua always fascinatingly more lascivious than that of Verona, though less violent. And he had grown attached enough to Benvolio through the years to miss him in the fall and winter, and anticipate seeing him in the spring. </p><p>“Do you miss your dad?” Romeo asked, and immediately realized that that was a silly question. “I’m sorry,” he added quietly, arms winding around Benvolio as well. </p><p>Benvolio made a small noise into his shoulder. “When mom died…I only kind of remember. I was barely six. And she was sick for so long…we kind of expected it. But dad…he left for a job like he always did and I went to bed…” He broke off, shuddering violently at the memory. Romeo hugged him tighter. “I woke up when it was still dark…the lights were so bright. I knew right away something had happened. Laura, our neighbor, came to sit with me. She had gotten the alert on her phone for everyone to stay inside. We closed the external shutters and waited. And waited, and waited, and—”</p><p>“Shhh.” Romeo nuzzled against his hair, Benvolio’s curls tickling his nose. His stomach flipped at the memory. That same night as the decon accident Benvolio’s father died in, he and Mercutio had climbed up to the top of one of the old towers near the pits, all the way to the top floor, and sat on top of the ancient, long conference table, watching the distant lights of ionized air playing across the distant horizon. The wall-length windows were long gone, shattered into oblivion, and the cool night air had whipped through their hair and made them huddle together for warmth as they watched. It had been fascinating, eerily beautiful, almost <i>romantic. </i></p><p>Somehow, he hadn’t made the connection until now. He hadn’t thought they’d be able to see that far away, even across the empty ash and waste fields of the exclusion zone. They had laughed and joked and entertained themselves, and meanwhile Benvolio waited to see if his father would come home. </p><p>Romeo felt ill. </p><p>“There hasn’t been an accident that bad in years,” Benvolio whispered. “We didn’t even get to have a proper funeral. At least I got to say goodbye to mom.”</p><p>“I can’t imagine how you must feel,” Romeo admitted in a whisper. “I don’t know what to say…I mean, I don’t think there’s anything I can say to make this better.”</p><p>Benvolio gave a small, strangled laugh. “No, but thanks for letting me stay here.”</p><p>“At our house? That’s not even—”</p><p>“In your bed.” Benvolio looked up at him,  his expression almost completely obscured by the darkness of the room. Romeo reached out to touch his cheek and realized it was wet. “I know we’re too old for this now, but I…I keep dreaming about the lights. That they’re going to come and swallow me up too.”</p><p>Romeo hummed and moved his hand from Benvolio’s face to tangle it gently in his hair. “They’re not. They’re only dreams. And as a friend of mine always says, <i>dreams and dreamers fucking lie.</i>”</p><p>Benvolio made a sound somewhere between a sob and laugh. “Is that Mercutio?”</p><p>“Yea.” Romeo couldn’t help but smile. He thought it would please Mercutio that someone who had never met him knew him so well through pure osmosis. </p><p>“I had an old nan – her family was also in the decon profession – and she told me that the lights come for everyone eventually, even if they’re not visible when they come for you.”</p><p>“Your nan enjoyed horror stories and scaring you.”</p><p>“Probably,” Benvolio admitted, returning to nuzzling against Romeo’s shoulder. </p><p>They were quiet for a moment, then Romeo said, “I don’t care if we’re too old for this. You should always come sleep with me if you have a nightmare. If it makes you feel better.” They really were a little too old, at eleven years old, to sleep in one bed, and Romeo knew his mother would have something awkward and frustrated to say about it if she found them like that in the morning. His father very certainly would – he would give Romeo that restrained, disappointed look that always made him feel small and somehow guilty. But Romeo couldn’t imagine turning Benvolio away, not after everything he had just lost, not when he needed him. It felt right that they should fall asleep like this, wrapped up in each other’s protection and comfort, when the Winds howled outside or rain fell in sheets with everyone’s phones blowing up with acidity level alerts. Hiding from the world could be so miserable, at least they could do it together. </p><p>“Thanks,” Benvolio said quietly against his shoulder. </p><p>They had done this as young children too in the summers, though for happier reasons, sitting up late In the dark in Benvolio’s bed, eating candy and sweet bread they’d stolen from the kitchen cupboards. They had read, made plans for what to do the following day, told stories. Romeo always had some strange story to tell – being friends with Mercutio made that a certainty. Matua was a strange city, far grittier than Verona and Romeo listened with fascination to all the scandalous things Benvolio had seen or heard about: the nightclubs and drug trade, the Circus employing a multitude of people with all sorts of deformities and mutations, and the pools with strange glowing fish that no one could quite explain. Mantua lived in a glow of neon and fluorescents, its trades mostly service, seedy underground establishments, entertainment of a questionable quality and ethics, and a hub for decon workers who would fan out from the city in various directions for scouting, maintenance and clean-up jobs. It wasn’t the best place to raise a child, and many decon families simply didn’t have any. Which was probably why, Romeo realized in hindsight, there were so few children around their age in Mantua and why Benvolio seemed to have so very few friends. </p><p>It also didn’t help, of course, that the decon profession had all sort of rumors about it: they died young, their children were born defective, they were psychos with a death wish – not to mention the conspiracies about decon workers bringing contamination into the cities because they were fascinated with it and wanted to experiment on their neighbors. There was a rumor going around, which Mercutio had told Romeo with utter glee just the other week, that Tybalt Capulet had bought contraband contaminants from someone in Hazzard and was smearing them over his knives to make them more deadly and that was why he had begun carrying heavy, led sheathes. Romeo had simply thought it was because of the dragon and skull engravings. <i>“Tybalt is a degenerate, but you have to admit it’s a brilliant idea! Uncle’s contact book must have someone from Hazzard,”</i> Mercutio had told him, eyes wide and wild, already imagining his epic fights with glow-in-the-dark contaminated knives. <i>“Don’t you dare,”</i> Romeo had said, a little tired, a little concerned, but very fond, nonetheless. “<i>Do you think Tybalt has grown a tail yet?” </i>was the next thing Mercutio had wondered and Romeo had laughed for twenty minutes straight imagining Tybalt Capulet with a long, bushy tail. </p><p>“It’s really true, then…” Benvolio said into the darkness suddenly. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“The Montagues and the Capulets and the feud?”</p><p>Romeo blinked, uncertain for a few minutes what Benvolio was asking. “Yes? I don’t know how exactly it started or when…centuries ago, must have been. Maybe before <i>it </i>happened even. But there’s so much bad blood between us…”</p><p>“I sort of thought…I know you told me some about it, the fights and all, but I didn’t think it was so…pervasive? I don’t know if that’s the word? There were always fights breaking out in Mantua, territorial things among the dealers and pimps and such, but here it’s…it’s part of everything.”</p><p>Romeo thought about that. Benvolio was right – everything was tinted by the feud somehow, and the older they grew, the more obvious it became. “I hate it really,”  he admitted in a half-whisper. “I know my father will want me to lead when I’m older, but I don’t want to do any of those things. I want to…I don’t know. To fall in love and get married and have a family.” He flushed, realizing how stupid that sounded. “I know I’m ridiculous.”</p><p>Benvolio moved back just a little to look into his face. Romeo could not really make out his expression in the dark, but he heard the tenderness in his voice. “That’s not really ridiculous. Doesn’t everyone want something like that? Almost all the adults I know are married or want to be. People need other people.”</p><p>A sticky, glowing warmth spilled inside Romeo’s chest, and he suddenly wanted to cry without knowing why. He pulled Benvolio back flush against his chest, and this time it was his turn to cling tightly like a little leach. “Well, until then we will have each other,” he said, and immediately felt embarrassed and ashamed for saying it. Mercutio would have rolled his eyes and called him a soppy dumbass. But Benvolio only hummed in agreement against his shoulder and returned his embrace as they drifted off to sleep.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Go, go, go!” Mercutio hissed, almost pushing Benvolio forward as they stumbled down a maze of dark side-streets, making a dashing escape from the city square where Mercutio had once again incited a scene of disorderly conduct and goaded a stray hoard of Capulets to violence. They stumbled over cracked concrete and between trash containers and warped pieces of old furniture, a sofa someone’s cat had torn up beyond recognition, over a patchwork of weeds and grass growing there and here, their tentacles spidering across the grey asphalt and turning into moss in the crevices between the ground and the buildings’ walls. They climbed over a chain link fence, kicked through a pile of old bottles and cans, and finally emerged by the industrial pits on Montague territory. </p><p>Benvolio slumped against the nearest wall, breathing hard and holding back laughter that bubbled up from his chest despite himself. He hated fighting, but he loved the rush of crashing through the city’s underbelly with Mercutio’s hand circled tight around his wrist and his laugher echoing against the silent grey walls, painting them into mirrors of joy despite their bleak appearance. </p><p>Mercutio slammed into the same wall next to him, hands flat against the concrete, his face scrunched up as he giggled breathlessly. “Did you see the look on his face? Did you see—” Mercutio gasped, and turned so he was still leaning on the wall but could look at Benvolio from under his absurdly long lashes. </p><p>Benvolio swallowed, the laughter suddenly dying in his throat as his eyes were immediately drawn to Mercutio’s swollen lips, the flowering bruise over his cheekbone, which Romeo would certainly notice and fuss over. He reached out and let his fingers linger just over Mercutio’s cheek, but not quite daring to touch him. “I saw,” he said softly. “You’re hurt.”</p><p>“Bullshit,” Mercutio rolled his eyes, then grinned and grabbed Benvolio’s hand. </p><p>“What—?” Benvolio stuttered, watching dumbfounded as Mercutio closed his mouth over one of his fingers and began to gently suck on it like it was a frozen candy. Benvolio tried to pull his hand back, but Mercutio made a disgruntled noise and his eyes sparkled with mischief and mirth. Benvolio shivered, suddenly helpless to do or say anything. That Mercutio always got worked up from fighting with Tybalt, he knew. That he could be especially lewd afterwards and sometimes took himself in hand, he also knew. But this was new and utterly paralyzing. </p><p>After a few seconds in which Benvolio’s mind began to spiral completely out of control, Mercutio withdrew and smiled broadly at him. “Tybalt’s face when he r<i>ealized. </i>Now everyone knows what a tiny cock he has.” Mercutio gloated. “I always knew he was just a tiny kitty under all that bravado. No tail though – Romeo will be disappointed.”</p><p>“I think Romeo will be more disappointed if he finds out you endeavored to not only fight in the middle of the shopping plaza but also to deprive someone of his pants in public.”</p><p>Mercutio hooted with gleeful laughter. “And it’s a good fight they gave us this time. Shit. I got to throw some bitches on the ground finally.”</p><p>Benvolio groaned and threw his head back, looking up at the greying skying. “Mercutio. Really.”</p><p>“What? Don’t tell me you don’t like it at all.” He moved closer and placed his hands on Benvolio’s shoulders, pressing him gently into the wall. </p><p>“<i>Like </i>isn’t really the word.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about the feud. Childish pranks and peacocking adolescent bravado had hardened the last couple of years into real brawls with, sometimes, real casualties. Benvolio saw that it alienated Romeo, even as it excited Mercutio, and felt helplessly caught in between himself. He would prefer to not fight anyone, but he could not simply look the other way like Romeo did. </p><p>Mercutio slid his hands down his chest and over his sides, under his shirt— Benvolio’s breath caught and he looked back down at Mercutio, who was now looking at him far more seriously. His eyes still sparked, but there was a deeper current in them now. “What are you on about?” Benvolio asked cautiously. </p><p>Mercutio smirked, his fingers lightly running over Benvolio’s abdomen, teasing the edge of his jeans. “It’s my birthday today, Benny, remember? Tybalt already gave me one birthday present today—”</p><p>“Your birthday isn’t until next week.”</p><p>Mercutio leaned forward and nipped at his lip. “Who says we can’t start early?” And with one quick move he unbuttoned and unzipped the top of his jeans, then slowly knelt in front of him and nuzzled against his crotch. </p><p>Benvolio gasped and bit the inside of his lip. He and Mercutio had kissed before – strange, mostly innocent things, while drinking stolen alcohol or a quick kiss after a fight, Mercutio’s way to say, <i>I’m good. You? </i> But <i>this</i>… “Mercutio?”</p><p>“Hmm…”</p><p>“We shouldn’t…”</p><p>Mercutio looked up at him through his lashes and smirked. “You don’t want to?”</p><p><i>Oh I want to, </i>Benvolio thought, a little miserably. <i>I’ve wanted to my whole fucking life probably. </i>“Not…here,” he forced out, his voice coming out embarrassingly squeaky. The adrenaline that had begun to calm down in his veins spiking up again and making him dizzy. </p><p>Mercutio was not so easily misled. He jumped to his feet and pressed Benvolio into the wall, his mouth finding Benvolio’s lips and kissing him so hard it almost hurt. Benvolio braced himself against his shoulders and moaned into the kiss, unable to contain the electric shocks running down his spine. He kissed him back, ran his tongue over Mercutio’s lips, tasted the bitter remnants of some illegal substance there.  </p><p>Mercutio withdrew far enough to tug at the folded Montague flag Benvolio was still holding tucked under one arm, drew it out and unfurled it. He draped the flag over Benvolio’s shoulders like a cape and studied him intensely, dark fire in his eyes. He leaned in and traced the edge of Benvolio’s ear with his tongue, sucked gently at his earlobe and whispered, “You look so hot in that flag. Our fearless leader. I could fuck you right here against this wall.”</p><p>Benvolio gasped, his cock hardening painfully. “Stop, stop there.” He really wasn’t anyone’s leader, certainly not a fearless one. Romeo was their leader by right, and Mercutio by practice. Benvolio was a follower more than anything, letting Mercutio tug him along into whatever disaster he concocted on the spot. </p><p>Mercutio tilted his head. “You would have me stop before I’m through?”</p><p>Benvolio made a small frustrated sound. He <i>definitely </i>didn’t want Mercutio to stop and his own body was evidence to that. Every time Mercutio moved in a little closer, his knees pressing against the inside of Benvolio’s thigh, his hips would lock and buck forward almost of their own accord. His fingers dug into Mercutio’s shoulders and he shook his head in surrender. “No.”</p><p>Mercutio found his neck and the tender spot just above his collarbone. Benvolio gasped, his knees growing week. He tangled a hand in Mercutio’s hair and tried to breath.</p><p>By the time Mercutio knelt again, Benvolio was too hard and too breathless to resist. “Last chance,” Mercutio said, stroking a hand over the inside of his thigh, his voice gravely and two tones deeper than usual. “If you don’t want to, tell me now.”</p><p>Benvolio whimpered helplessly and gave the handful of hair he was keeping hold of a gentle tug. </p><p>“I’m guessing that’s a yes,” Mercutio crowed gleefully and freed Benvolio’s cock into the cold evening air. The sudden contrast of cold against hot skin made Benvolio shiver violently and throw his head back. Mercutio took him in hand, closed warm fingers over the base of his shaft, and slowly took him in his mouth. </p><p>Benvolio’s head spun. He did not dare look down at Mercutio, afraid that if he did, if he saw Mercutio’s face, his dark eyes, with his mouth wrapped around Benvolio’s cock, he would lose his mind. Or simply come immediately like a milksop schoolboy. He allowed himself to drown in the shocks Mercutio’s expert mouth and tongue sent through his body, reveled in the contrast of cold air and hot skin. He rocked forward to match Mercutio’s rhythm and released soft strangled moans into the night. At the end of the alleyway, an old fluorescent sign crackled and hummed. Far off voices drifted closer, then away again.  “Mercutio,” he mumbled, as though in a fever, “Mercutio, I can’t, oh God. Oh my God.” Mercutio laughed around his cock, sending vibrations running up his shaft that made Benvolio’s knees nearly buckle and give out as the pressure and heat in his abdomen swelled and spilled over. Clever fingers caressed his balls and the inside of his thigh. “I’m going to—I’m—” he was going to come, there was no holding it back. More voices in the distance – laughing, singing drunkenly, dangerously close. </p><p>What if someone turned into the alley for a shortcut or to take a piss? They would see Mercutio kneeling before him, Verona’s best and brightest splayed in front of <i>him </i>of all people; they would see— Benvolio looked down and was immediately met with Mercutio’s dark eyes – desire and laugher mixed into a potent, heady blend, his mouth a wet <i>O </i>around Benvolio. </p><p>In was too much, and Benvolio’s resolve broke. He cried out and threw his head back, the world tilting dangerously as his release rushed through him, knocking the breath out of his lungs and finally turning his legs into jelly. </p><p>Mercutio withdrew just as Benvolio sank to the ground, panting and making undignified noises, completely unperturbed by the thought of what kind of filth and grime this sort of back alley gathered. Mercutio wiped his mouth and ginned, gathered him up in his arms and stroked his cheek. “Oh, ‘Volio, ‘Volio, as sensitive as a virgin and as loud as a midtown whore.”</p><p>Benvolio laughed, hiding his face in Mercutio’s shoulder, his cheeks burning up. He fumbled around, trying to tuck himself back in before anyone did have a chance on stumbling upon them. “This is horribly unsanitary,” Benvolio said for no reason, more out of habit, as that had not been on his mind at all. </p><p>Mercutio hummed and stroked curls out of his face, his own expression oddly tender. “I’m an awful influence.” </p><p>Benvolio bit his lip, suddenly realizing. He reached down and found Mercutio’s crotch – it was full and straining with unreleased need. He winced. “Your turn then?”</p><p>“I told you I’d fuck you against this wall if you’d let me. But I’d love to see you laid out on that Montague flag…”</p><p>“I don’t think my uncle would be pleased if we despoil the flag.”</p><p>Mercutio made a face. Benvolio could feel himself going hard again just from the thought of Mercutio lifting him up, sitting him on his cock, his back pressed against the wall, the cold night air against his skin. He imagined wrapping his legs around Mercutio’s waist and riding him straight to heaven. But the adrenaline in his blood was finally starting to fade and good sense finally creeping in. “We shouldn’t do that here.”</p><p>“You like it,” Mercutio insisted. </p><p>“I’m serious.”</p><p>Mercutio gave a dramatic sigh. “Then let’s go home.”</p><p>Benvolio groaned. “Can’t we just stay here for another moment?” He really did not want to move. </p><p>“it’s starting to smell like piss.”</p><p>Benvolio slapped his shoulder. “Always so romantic.”</p><p>“You’re the one who wants to cuddle in a dingy back alley.”</p><p>“I just don’t think I can walk right now, honestly.”</p><p>Mercutio rolled his eyes, but his arms around Benvolio tightened protectively. “You’re worse than Romeo.”</p><p>Benvolio startled. He looked up at Mercutio, eyebrows furrowed. “How do you know Romeo….You’re not actually…?”</p><p>Mercutio threw his head back and laughed. It sounded more bitter than Benvolio would have expected. “Nooo. Not Romeo. Oh, he wouldn’t let me. It’s only cunts Romeo likes.”</p><p>“<i>Stop it.</i>” Benvolio hissed. There was a strange sucking feeling in his stomach now, something bordering on jealousy. There was an odd wistfulness in Mercutio’s voice, as though he really did regret not being able to get into Romeo’s pants. It all felt dirty somehow – to talk about Romeo in such a way; to feel jealous of him, too. </p><p>“Well, if you can’t walk,” Mercutio said, clearly changing the subject. “I can carry you home. Bridal style even. For everyone to see.” There was teasing and mockery in his voice and Benvolio could feel himself turning bright red. </p><p>“Can you just hold me for two seconds and then we can go?” he said. It was ill-advised, pouty, the words of some spoiled, small child. </p><p>Mercutio ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. But only two seconds.” </p><p>Benvolio leaned up and caught his mouth in a grateful kiss. Mercutio kissed him back, and if there was something subtly distant about it now, he didn’t notice.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Romeo could not say how he had gotten to this moment. Death began to visit him like shadow, the early evening creeping into the late afternoon, slowly taking over the world, the colors condensing and darkening, first in the corners, then spreading through the streets and the sky. He could not be certain how he knew it was Death that visited him on his long, solitary walks through the streets, into the maze of the industrial pits. It found him at the top of the skytowers, blowing in with the wind as he traced the engravings on the old conference tables made with switch blades, his fingertips just barely touching the etched surface. Many boys had climbed up there, certainly, but Romeo always knew which carvings were Mercutio’s.</p><p>He did not know how he knew, but he knew it was Death – Benvolio’s nan had been wrong. Death was not the lights – it had no light at all. It was only shadow, a sudden gust of foul-smelling wind from nowhere, a howling song from the underground crevices in the pits, rain on shattered glass when the acidity was creeping into the orange zone, and a sinking feeling in the bottom of his stomach. </p><p>Every time Benvolio picked up the Montague flag, a look of brave and stoic determination on his face, Romeo felt its icy touch. Every time Mercutio laughed with that maniacal glint in his eyes, the trophy rings on his fingers glittering as he gestured wildly, Romeo could feel it lurking in the corners of the room.</p><p>He wondered some days if he was going mad. Mercutio was the one everyone considered slightly <i>off. </i>Mercutio who had once told him he saw blood on the walls when he knew it wasn’t there, or spiders crawling out of Tybalt’s hair if he was in the wrong light. Sometimes he wondered if their childhood mishaps, the ill-advised trip to the factory behind the schoolyard, had somehow damaged both of their minds on some level. </p><p>Verona was soaked with blood, and the world with poisons and ash, death strewn to every corner, even after centuries. There was no escape from its grasp. That Romeo could see its lurking personification should not have been such a surprise. Where if not here would it take up a home. </p><p>He wanted to escape, even as Mercutio wished to conquer and Benvolio to belong. </p><p>Romeo dreamed of wistful things, things from another world, and the shadows followed him. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Mercutio found him in the industrial pits on the Montague side of town the night after another fight that had been large enough to disrupt the schedule of the Prince. Usually, it was Benvolio who went looking for him, so Romeo was surprised to see Mercutio emerging from around a trash hill, kicking up puffs of dirt, his boots crunching on the broken glass, eyes glued to his phone. We he saw Romeo, his face contorted into a frustrated smirk and then an easy, somewhat surface smile. “There you are. Your cousins have been looking for you.”</p><p>“You mean Ben has been looking for me,” Romeo said, not bothering to look away from the small stream the rain had created. It flowed through the dirt, over shards of glass, carrying with it several colorful cady wrappers. They used to do this as children – save the shiniest candy wrappers and bury them in small holes in the dirt, cover them with glass and call it a <i>secret. </i>It was one of the more innocent things they did. “At least it’s not my mother.” </p><p>“I don’t take orders from your mother.”</p><p>“But you take orders from Ben?”</p><p>Mercutio folded his arms over his chest and gave him a long look. </p><p>Romeo smirked. “And here I thought you just cared about me.”</p><p>Mercutio scoffed and went to stand beside him. “What are you doing here anyway?”</p><p>Romeo looked up into his face, studied the stitched-up gash across his eyebrow and temple, knew that there wee more under his shirt. “I’m surprised you’re not grounded after yesterday.”</p><p>Mercutio rolled his eyes. “I’m too old to be grounded.”</p><p>“You’re never too old to be put under house arrest by the Prince.”</p><p>“You’re avoiding the question.”</p><p>Romeo shrugged. “I’m not doing anything. Just…no one goes down here these days except some kids, and it’s too late for them probably.” </p><p>“Don’t tell me you’re mad at me, Romeo.” There was a note of warning frustration in Mercutio’s voice. Apparently he had been coming to some conclusions of his own. </p><p>“I’m never <i>mad </i>at you,” he said, quietly, looking away. <i>I worry about you.</i> </p><p>“You’ve just been so…fuck, I don’t know. In your own head.”</p><p>Romeo kept looking down. He didn’t want to see the feelings that might be on Mercutio’s face. He didn’t know what to tell him. So, instead, he asked, “Why was there a fight this time?”</p><p>“Benvolio didn’t tell you?”</p><p>“Ben was with you last night.” Romeo looked up, met his eyes. Not quite an accusation, but close enough for Mercutio to sit down abruptly on a large boulder and begin fidgeting with another one of his numerous pocketknives. </p><p>“We were just minding our own business. Having a little bonfire – you know, we invited you. We were throwing some of the new stash of shells into the fire, seeing if any would explode. Benvolio was, of course, complaining about how dangerous it is—”</p><p>“He’s not wrong, you know—”</p><p>“Finally, a couple went off. We were just minding our own business. Then the Caps roll up like so many ratty street cats. They start going off about how we’ll get arrested or some shit. As though I don’t know about their own stashes and the things they do with them.” He made a face. Romeo rolled his eyes in a <i>I don’t want to know what you and your Capulet lovers did in bed </i>sort of way. “Anyway, they got some new kid who’s in Hazzard. It’s where Tybalt gets his plutonium probably—”</p><p>Romeo laughed. “Are you still on this conspiracy theory?”</p><p>“<i>Anyway. </i>He was talking shit, so Gigi socked him.”</p><p>“And not you?”</p><p>“Ben was holding me hostage.”</p><p>“He’s the only reason you’re still alive.”</p><p>Mercutio shrugged and looked down. After a moment he said, far too seriously, “You should have come out last night. It was fun.”</p><p>Romeo imagined it: the bonfire, Benvolio’s shy-flirty looks, Mercutio whispering into his ear. Then the Capulets and the fighting, the feral look on Mercutio’s face. He shook his head. “The way things ended up…”</p><p>“We need you.”</p><p>“I’m no good at fighting.”</p><p>“I need you.”</p><p>“Mercutio, I’m not—”</p><p>“Not for fighting, you idiot.” He stood up and walked off several paces, kicking up dirt and glass. “Just.” Mercuito groaned and looked up at the sky. “I know what it’s like, you know? Seeing shit no one else does. Knowing it’s out there. You’re not so much of a mystery as you pretend to be.”</p><p>The notes of resentment in his tone made Romeo flinch. Cautiously, he went to stand behind Mercutio. He reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, turning him around gently. Their eyes met and Romeo felt his breath catch for a moment. He’d seen so much in those eyes: joy and grief, bloodlust and tenderness. Now there was a veil of confusion, hanging on the edge, just one moment away from freefalling into rage. “I’m not avoiding you. It’s not you.” <i>Definitely not</i> you. He reached out and touched Mercutio’s cheek. The bright, fluorescent streetlights on the edge of the pits only barely reached this far down, and the half-darkness made the edges of Mercutio’s face sharper. </p><p>“I love you, you know,” Mercutio said, the words choked, almost resentful. </p><p>A siren shrieked through the air, somewhere in the distance. Romeo moved his hand from Mercutio’s face to the back of his neck. “Don’t say things you don’t mean. It’s not nice to lie.” There was a deep aching in his chest. Love was such a strange thing – sometimes he felt full of it to the brim, and sometimes he wondered if something so pure could even exist in this world of grey and black, blood crimson and fatigue green. </p><p>“Fuck you.”</p><p>“That’s what you’ve got Ben for.”</p><p>Mercutio shoved him – <i>hard. </i>Romeo fell back, his hands hitting the rough ground, rubbing raw on impact. His right palm stung and he looked down to see a neat cut leaking red against his pale skin. He looked away quickly. </p><p>“Well look at it,” Mercutio snarled. “it’s just blood. We all have it in us.”</p><p>Romeo jumped to his feet, his hands closing into fists. “What do you want, Mercutio? Just tell me straight what you want.”</p><p>“What I want?” He walked over to Romeo and grabbed his injured hand, lifted it to his face and licked the cut, Romeo’s blood staining his mouth red. </p><p>“What--?”</p><p>Mercutio shook his head, silently, then pressed the palm of Romeo’s hand to his cheek and rubbed against it like a cat. When he pulled away, there was a bright-red smudge across his face. </p><p>“You’re batshit crazy, you know that?” Romeo said softly, but instinctively reached to take his hand. </p><p>“Aren’t we all? At least a little? You don’t want to fight with us – fine. But don’t shut me out. I go stir crazy—and don’t bring up Ben.”</p><p>There was a nauseous, sinking feeling in Romeo’s stomach. “He loves you.”</p><p>Mercutio smiled bitterly. “And I’m a greedy bastard who can’t settle for one person.”</p><p>“Why are you telling me this now?”</p><p>“Did you want a big romantic gesture? I suppose the pits aren’t very romantic.”</p><p>“Not in this city.” There was something about it, though – they had spent so much time playing in the  abandoned industrial pits as children, scavenging the trash piles, hanging off of steel carcasses, playing hide-and-seek in the concrete mazes. They made their shadow world into a playground, squeezing joy out of misery. Perhaps this was the same, the grow-up version. </p><p>Romeo looked down at his palm, the red streak of blood had run down to his wrist; large red droplets bubbled up through the broken skin. Mercutio watched him intently, Romeo’s blood on his lips and his face. Even as children they always agreed they were more than family to each other. They hadn’t known what that meant back then. </p><p>Romeo tugged at his sleave to pull Mercutio forward, and tasted the bitter iron on his lips. </p><p>Mercutio smiled into the kiss and Romeo knew, like he always knew everything when it came to Mercutio, that they had both waited too long for this, with bated breath. </p><p>Romeo’s hands shook, even as he wrapped them tighter around Mercutio. Blood dripped from his palm, into the rainwater, and carried off into the shadowy cracks and corners. Perhaps it fed whatever lurked there. </p><p>But while he was kissing Mercutio, their bodies pressed impossibly close together, he didn’t care. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Ben, say something.”</p><p>The rain had started up outside – Romeo could hear it beating against the windows and balcony railing. Heavy clouds had threatened all day and were now finally cracking in a fantastic show of purple lightening. Romeo sat on the couch in the living room that was supposed to be <i>theirs </i>now, but that he still thought of as Benvolio and Mercutio’s. Benvolio was staring at the wall in front of him, his expression unreadable. </p><p>“He told me, you know.”</p><p>“Told you what?” Romeo’s heart was racing, an aching terror lodged between his ribs that Benvolio would never be able to understand, would never be able to forgive him the trespass. Even if Mercutio had insisted otherwise and Benvolio had tried to not have a conversation about the whole thing to begin with. </p><p>“He told me what he wanted to do. He asked me if I…”</p><p>“You two were together first. I never should have—” </p><p>Benvolio shook his head sharply and looked over at Romeo, eyes wide. “It was hopeless, you know? Let’s be honest, none of us know how to be without each other.”</p><p>Romeo let out a long sigh and leaned into Benvolio’s side, rested his head on Benvolio’s shoulder. “But tell me…do you really hate this arrangement?”</p><p>Benvolio laughed, the laughter turning into a hiccup. “Of course I don’t hate it.”</p><p>Photographs hung on the wall across from them, a collage he and Benvolio had put together one night, spanning the years from their childhood to just several months prior. One of Romeo’s favorites was of him and Benvolio sitting atop an old, rusty fence in the heat of high summer, with their shirts unbuttoned and untucked. They held a large cotton candy between them, their faces half buried in the pink monstrosity. It was clear even in the still photograph that they were dying from trying to not laugh. After, they had licked bits of the sugary cloud from each other’s noses as Mercutio made lewd puns and grinned maniacally at them.  </p><p>To think they could fight over something as natural as sharing Mercutio. They had always shared everything, and Mercutio so desperately wanted to be shared.</p><p>Benvolio turned his head and pressed a kiss to Romeo’s temple as the rain began to really hammer and pour. The flat was warm, filled with yellow light, and for once, Romeo did not feel like skulking off somewhere outside, did not feel quite so trapped. “Remember I once told you that people need people?” Benvolio said quietly. </p><p>“Mmhmm.”</p><p>“I think this counts.”</p><p>Romeo looked up, met his eyes and smiled. “It better.” He leaned forward and gently kissed the corner of Benvolio’s mouth. “It’s not like we don’t love each other, too.”</p><p>“It’s not like,” Benvolio agreed. </p><p>A cold gust of fresh air that smelled like rain and a loud bang of the door hitting the wall as it was thrown open announced Mercutio. “Did you boys miss me?” he asked, grinning cheekily at them. He threw off his wet boots and went to sit between them, landing instead on both their laps when they refused to separate. Mercutio looked between them and grinned. “I see how it is.”</p><p>“Are you disappointed?” Benvolio asked, raising an eyebrow. </p><p>Mercutio exchanged a look with Romeo before kissing him with demonstrative flare, then turned back to Benvolio and said, with a smug, self-congratulatory grin, “Sweet ‘Volio, shut up and kiss me.”</p>
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